


this is the purpose you were made to fulfill

by WingsOfTime



Series: ikael [4]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alcohol, Anger Management, Multi, Post-Stormblood, Sexual Harassment, Slurs, Slut Shaming, Specific Warrior of Light, Swearing, Violence, WoL is Not the one who is being a douche, WoL-centric, also ft the WoL being .... less of a weenie, alternate title: kitty needs therapy, completely made up random monk hc, dark knight stuff, for both sense and sensibility, ft the WoL being a weenie, hoo boy, i'm considering upping the rating, i'm not sure i'ts a slur but just in case, it's very minor, more talking but not on a bed, neither are the scions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingsOfTime/pseuds/WingsOfTime
Summary: ...tolive.The Warrior of Light really wants to start his harem. That it doesn't work out for him shouldn't be that much of a surprise.(reading of other works in series not required, but recommended :)





	this is the purpose you were made to fulfill

**Author's Note:**

> Strong warning for sexual harassment. Lesser warnings in tags.  
> Inspiration for this fic came from everyone who has ever harassed a female character in a video game, that one guy who sexted me in an mmo when i was like 12, and that one other guy on the forums complaining that Au Ra weren't manly enough for him.  
> (It kind of got away from me.)  
> (set post-stormblood)

It was a dark and _exceptionally_ clear night.

It had been Lyse’s idea to throw a party to celebrate the new year. _To new beginnings,_ she had said. _To freedom. To my people_.

Of course, someone (Thancred) had immediately pointed out that they had had a celebration not too long ago, to new beginnings, freedom, _and_ her people. _Shut up, Thancred_ , Lyse had said. _I’m leaving you lot and I want to throw a party, okay?_

Ikael had of course sniffled a bit at this, and Lyse had given him a hug and permission to invite whomsoever he wished.

That had been a mistake.

~*~

“A… fete?” Ser Aymeric queried, holding the hastily-written invitation in his hands as if it contained the weight of a nation in its scrawling ink. “Did you not just… ah…” He trailed off. Ikael had started to wring his hands.

Ikael looked up at him. “Please?” he said earnestly, playing up the wideness of his eyes. “It’d mean a lot to me if you’d come. You left so quickly last time I didn’t have a chance to talk to you.”

Aymeric seemed torn. Ishgard was still recovering from the attack launched against the Garlean forces, and she needed her leaders now more than ever. Zenos yae Galvus may have died, but there was always work to do. Yet…

Lucia leaned down to murmur, “I can shift some duties. For _one_ night.”

Aymeric smiled at her.

“I accept,” he said, and Ikael _glowed_.

~*~

Ser Aymeric had not been the mistake.

The beautiful Au Ra with gold on his horns and eyes burning like liquid fire, with coal-black scales and skin the colour of a melted heart,

The man whom Ikael had seen and felt sweet heat spread through him like molten chocolate, who had had him blushing from his chest and shyly stammering out an invitation, who had accepted with a glittering, heart-rending smile—

 _He_ had been the mistake.

~*~

It was a beautiful night. The old Lominsan in Thancred could have gotten lost in the stars, and even now he still remembered the names of most of them. The stars were constant. He had gotten lost in the Lifestream, Y’shtola had lost her sight, _they_ had all lost so much—

And the stars were constant.

So was Ikael’s terrible sense of fashion, apparently.

Thancred found him chatting with Alphinaud. Not surprising—doubtless he wished Ikael to slay him a dragon, or free him a nation, or find him a long-lost buried treasure. Still, Alphinaud appeared to be holding out what looked like a sketching pad, and Ikael was dressed… questionably, and Thancred thought it perhaps best that he intervene.

“I don’t understand,” Alphinaud was saying as Thancred approached, “Why do you want an _unclothed_ portrait of Hien from the waist up? I could put more detail in it if it were just a bust of his face and armour.”

“… No reason,” Ikael said after a significant pause. “Just, ah… how much did you say you wanted for it?”

“Tis free!” Alphinaud protested. “Please, there is no need—”

“You may wish to accept his money,” Thancred interrupted, “For insurance against future, yet to be disclosed damages.”

Alphinaud blinked at him, startled. “Thancred! I did not see you there.” Ikael started to fish for his coin purse, strangely—it wasn’t as if there was a lot of room for him to have put it. “I—no, no, Ikael—” Alphinaud flapped his hands haphazardly.

“Realization comes at a heavy price indeed,” Thancred said as Ikael dropped what seemed like a small fortune onto Alphinaud’s sketch pad.

 “What are you talking about?” Alphinaud said, sounding confused. He looked flustered, and not at all like he was used to the Warrior of Light saying no to him.

Thancred did not wish to have either of those conversations with Alphinaud right now, at this very moment. He turned to Ikael instead, and said, “What are you _wearing?_ ”

“Shisui!” Ikael exclaimed nonsensically, and did a little twirl. The loose fabric around his thighs shifted further downwards.

“Isn’t that a food?” Alphinaud asked.

Ikael flicked him on the forehead. “I think so,” he said over Alphinaud’s resulting cry of pain, “But I’m wearing it anyways.”

Thancred caught a gleam of orange out of the corner of his eye, and said, “My friend, I wish to speak with you in private, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Ikael acquiesced, and Alphinaud wandered off with a sigh, chewing on the end of his pen.

Ikael turned to Thancred. He looked—happy. Smiling. His eyes were bright, and his hair was getting a bit long—and—he was usually confident in his scant mode of dress, but this time there was a certain… timidity to it. It was subtle, barely noticeable, even, but Thancred could see it. And if _he_ could…

Thancred suspected he already knew the answer to his own question. He said anyways, “There is a strange Au Ra here. He has been eyeing you for the past ten minutes. Any idea as to why?”

Ikael’s mouth parted in a surprised “o”. Then he—flushed. Thancred watched him with a raised eyebrow.

“I… invited him,” Ikael said to Thancred's ear. “Uh, well, you know. He seemed, uh… interested.”

“In the party,” Thancred clarified.

“Of course.” Ikael lifted his chin. Then he grinned. “So I couldn’t resist. And, well. You know what they say about long tails.”

Thancred had no idea what they said about long tails, but Ikael was an adult, and could make his own decisions. Still… he couldn’t shake off the odd feeling he had. “Yes,” he said anyways. Ikael shot him a quick, puzzled look.

“Just be mindful, eh?” Thancred said.

Ikael sighed. “Thancred, I don't have time to prostitute myself at every opportunity I get,” he began, evidently deciding that delicate wording was for cowards.

“Okay,” said Thancred, a bit offended. He wasn’t _that_ bad.

“I would _like_ to,” Ikael continued, apparently not talking about him at all, “But I usually simply have too many things to do. _Now I don’t_. And _look_ at him!”

Thancred did. Those eyes gleamed like a furnace. Flickering flames from a nearby campsite glinted off of sharp black horns. Thancred wasn’t one to judge an Au Ra by his scales, but the _intent_ in his gaze looked—dangerous.

Thancred did not want to tell Ikael that his conquest reminded Thancred of Ifrit. “If you truly are for that whole ‘savage and murderous vagabond’ look, then by all means embrace it,” he said instead. “In fact, there is a whole genre of Ishgardian romance novels that I simply must introduce you to.”

“Oh, I know,” Ikael grinned. “Hilda showed me those books a while back. They seemed to remind her of you.”

Thancred stared at him.

Ikael laughed, and Thancred huffed at him and rolled his eyes. “What is your goal tonight?” he muttered, “‘Pick up’ or ‘drive Thancred into an early grave?’”

Ikael’s grin widened. “By the looks of it, you have already gotten halfway to the latter without my help,” he said, eyeing Thancred's hair.

Thancred snorted, and shoved a delighted Ikael to the side. “Leave,” he said. “Seriously; your devilishly handsome companion is beginning to give me the side-eye.”

“Alright, alright,” Ikael chuckled. “Wish me luck!” And with a wink, he sauntered away, tail swinging leisurely behind him.

~*~

Ikael was a fully capable adult. Nevertheless, Thancred kept watch.

He was not the only one. He became aware of Y’shtola standing beside him around the time Ikael stopped at a spread table to get a drink, and knew she was keeping an aetheric eye on Ikael when he paused to nervously readjust his top and she let out a neutral hum.

Thancred glanced over to acknowledge her presence and—

“Is that _cake_?”

It was a single slice on a plate, mostly uneaten. Y'shtola did not like cake. She said, “Ikael gave it to me. Something about ‘recovery.’ But that man over there—tell me something about him puts you off as well.”

Thancred frowned. Away from them, Ikael had started to talk to the stranger. The man grinned, teeth sharp and gleaming, and Ikael actually toed at the ground, blushing.

“When you say ‘puts me off,’” Thancred started slowly—

Y’shtola shook her head, and he felt his shoulders relax a fraction. “He is normal,” she said. “Not possessed, not transformed. He just seems…”

The man grabbed Ikael by the thin tie around his chest and tugged him closer, then smirked and ran a single finger along his jawline, curling it underneath his chin and tipping his head upwards. Thancred could not see much more at this angle, but Ikael’s ears folded down a second later, and he seemed to—shiver.

“Thancred,” said Y’shtola.

The stranger said something, and then Ikael pulled back abruptly. He made a sharp gesture with his hand, cutting the air.

Thancred debated whether he should go over and intervene, because yes Ikael was an adult, but he could be _dense_ sometimes—

The man snarled something and backhanded Ikael across the face.

“ _Thancred_ ,” said Y’shtola.

Thancred had already made his decision. He paused for a brief second to tug at Y’shtola’s plate—

“No. It is mine.”

—before determinedly making his way over, sticking to the long shadows cast by the firelight. In his experience, Ikael tended to solve his problems by first attempting to avoid them, and then roundhouse kicking them in the head when that failed to work. Unfortunately, judging by the submissive line of his shoulders and the plea in his raised hands, he didn’t plan on getting to the second step soon enough.

“Is my coin not accepted in your lands, then?” growled the Au Ra when Thancred was close enough to hear them speak. “I assure you that you are _not_ good-looking enough to find an alternative to me tonight, kitten.”

Thancred felt his eyebrows raise. The way he saw it now, Ikael had only two options: keep trying to talk him down or perform the aforementioned roundhouse kick to the face. A man like that would not take kindly to someone simply walking away.

“Aha, sorry,” said Ikael, choosing the option that Thancred definitely would not have picked, “I didn’t mean to offend. I wasn’t refusing your coin, I simply misund—”

“Then _service_ me, whore,” the man growled, and grabbed Ikael by the arm. Thancred felt his jaw tighten. “You invite me to your strange celebration, acting like a coy harlot, you come to me wearing the clothes of my people on your unscaled flesh, you _seduce_ me, and you dare to refuse me? You will regret that choice.”

Ikael’s face hardened. _Finally_. He wrenched his arm away, bringing it to his side and shifting his left foot back. It was a small movement, and nowhere close to a fighting stance, but Ikael was fast, Thancred knew, and the threat was there.

“I do not owe you anything,” Ikael snapped. “I thought that… I misunderstood your intentions, Kyapitoru, and that is _all_. The way I am dressed has n—”

He faltered, and Thancred swore under his breath. _Nothing to do with you_ , Ikael had undoubtedly been going to say, but… well. It was an unfortunately cluster of events, really, and had… Kyapitoru, apparently, been less of a complete arse, the situation would have been different. Thancred would have even felt glad for his friend—Ikael deserved a reward for… whatever he had just finished doing, in whichever form he chose. So long as that form treated him right.

“You cannot deny your purpose, can you?” Kyapitoru said in a low voice. “It is fine—I shall take you for free, then. Show you why you came to _me_.”

His voice dipped on the last word, slipping into something molten and promising, and—Ikael froze, just for a split second, but long enough for Kyapitoru to reach for—

_No._

—Nothing, as Thancred's dagger whizzed past his hand. Thancred walked up to them with sure steps, locking his gaze with Kyapitoru’s, making sure the threat was clear. The Warrior of Light of all people could defend himself, of course, but—

—Not always.

The _Warrior of Light_ could fight at any time, could slay all of Alphinaud’s dragons, could bring down mountains if he so wished—

—But the _Warrior of Light_ was all but a title, and _Ikael_ was not unbreakable.

“Tis inconvenient how your heroic traits only surface when there are others around, my friend,” Thancred sighed, and stopped just in front of Ikael. “But lucky for you, I am here now.”

“Step aside, mongrel,” Kyapitoru said, narrowing his eyes at Thancred. “The whore and I have business to attend to, and you do ill to interrupt us thus.”

“Terribly sorry,” Thancred drawled, “But _Ikael_ and myself have better things to do than listen to you threaten us all evening. Now leave us,” he smiled, stretching his lips over his teeth, “Or my next dagger shall find your skull.”

Kyapitoru went silent and eyed him for a long second, and for a moment Thancred believed that they really would fight, but then he snarled, “So be it. I hope the warmth of your bed is worth the diseases he carries,” and stalked away.

Ikael breathed out, purposefully long. Thancred glanced at him worriedly, but Ikael simply shook his head.

“You are right. He was not worth a fight,” Ikael said shortly. “He had better stay away from any of the _actual_ , ah…”

“Ladies of the evening,” Thancred suggested.

Ikael shot him an amused glance. “Or men,” he said. Then he sighed. “I’ll… talk to them,” he said. “I thought I saw Edyan around. Some people are best avoided no matter the profession.”

“Edyan?” Thancred asked.

“And his coworkers,” Ikael replied, easily sidestepping. He flashed Thancred a grin which did not reach his eyes. “Save a drink for me?”

Thancred had not learned naught from the past few months. “I am sorry it did not work out, Ikael,” he said. “You deserve someone who is worthy of you.”

Surprise flashed across Ikael’s face, then his features softened, and this time his smile was warm. “Thank you, Thancred,” he said softly.

“Seriously, though,” he said as he turned to leave, “Save a drink for me.”

~*~

“I saw you with that Auri gentlemen earlier,” Alisaie told him, and Ikael squinted at her. Her voice was light, casual, and he wondered how much she had witnessed of the incident with Kyapitoru.

“Oh?” he said, to test the waters.

“Oh,” she replied, and then she—smiled. Teasingly. “Was I just me, or did I detect interest?”

Ah. “No interest,” Ikael said, grinning and shelving his thoughts away for another time. “Not anymore, at least.”

Alisaie raised an eyebrow at him. “I _saw_ you, Ikael.”

He laughed, in truth a bit embarrassed. Had he really been that obvious? “I admit he caught my eye,” he said, “But his personality did not make up for it. A shame, really—I mean, have you seen how… _tall_ Auri men tend to be? And you know what they say about—”

He cut himself off, eyeing her dubiously.

“What am I doing,” he muttered. “You are a _child_.”

“Actually, I’m—” Alisaie frowned, looking conflicted. “Truth be told, I don’t even know what to think of myself as nowadays,” she confessed. “Tis like I cannot decide whether I should be an adult or a teenager. Either way, I shall thank you to keep those thoughts to yourself.” She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Honestly, Thancred is rubbing off on you.”

“He _wishes_ ,” Ikael said, waggling his eyebrows ridiculously, and she laughed, then immediately pushed him playfully in the arm.

Ikael had decided not to tell her about Kyapitoru, of course.

That had been a mistake.

~*~

Saving a drink for Ikael had been a fine idea. Not keeping an eye on him and his alcohol intake had not.

“You trrried to fuck a table, you know,” Ikael slurred, swaying unsteadily on his feet. “Didn’ work. You’rrre cute, but not… _that_ cute. ‘n the bandana makes y’look old.”

Thancred sighed. “I knew it was simply a matter of time before _you_ eventually told me that,” he said, prying Ikael’s drink from his fingers before he could consume more of it.

Ikael ignored him. “I mean, maybe if ya trrried to look more l’k _him_ ,” he turned dramatically, nearly falling, and pointed towards Ser Aymeric, who could definitely not hear their conversation, and waved, “the table… would wanna fuck you.”

“Thank you, Ikael,” said Thancred.

“Thanred!” Ikael said. “Than….rrrr….ed.”

“I’m quite sure my name only has two syllables,” said Thancred.

“I’ll… _figh’_ you for it!” Ikael cried, apparently interpreting that as a challenge. “Le’s fight.”

“No fighting at a party, Ikael,” said Thancred.

“… No figh’in?” Ikael looked like that very idea was outside the realm of something he could conceive. “Then wha’... am I doin' here?”

“Providing entertainment, mostly,” said Thancred.

“Ikael!” yelled a frantic voice, catching their attention. It was Alisaie, with an arm wrapped around her brother. Alphinaud’s head was bowed, and he was walking fine, but the hand fisted in Alisaie’s jacket was white-knuckled and shaking.

“Wha’ happe’d?” Ikael immediately made his way over to them, and took hold of Alphinaud, cupping his face with a brotherly gentleness. Alphinaud’s nose was bleeding, and there was a red welt across his cheek, but when he looked up his eyes were burning.

“I am fine,” he said abruptly. “Alisaie is the one who—”

“Please, Brother, let him at least look,” she insisted, and the set of her jaw was what made Thancred ease Ikael aside so someone who hadn’t been drowning in their sorrows all night could check on the boy.

“Your nose isn’t broken,” Thancred said after a cursory examination, “And that will leave a bruise, but that is all. Whoever hit you did not do so too hard.”

“ _Hit_ you?” Ikael hissed. “Who? _Tell me_.” Anger made his words sharp, and while he was still slurring somewhat, it was by a surprisingly lesser amount.

“The Au Ra you were talking to earlier,” said Alphinaud, pointing, and Ikael’s entire body went rigid. His balled fists tightened. “He was… _harassing_ Alisaie, and I told him to stop, and—”

“I’ll kill him,” Ikael seethed. “ _I’ll fuckin’ kill him._ ”

“Alphinaud, Alisaie,” said Thancred, “Go find Y’shtola.”

“I do not need a healer!” Alphinaud cried, self-righteous. “I just—”

He still seemed angry, but…

“That _piece of shit_ —I’ll tear his _fucking_ insides out—”

… Ikael was _furious_.

“Go. _Now_ ,” said Thancred, and the twins shot Ikael nervous glances before running off.

Thancred took a breath, and then stepped in front of Ikael, blocking his path. Ikael stared at him, fury boiling in his gaze, and Thancred steeled himself. This would not be easy.

“Ikael. Listen to me,” he said. “Now I know that you’re angry, but you’re also _drunk_ , and—”

“I’m not fucking drunk!” Ikael snapped, taking Thancred aback. He frowned, looking at Ikael critically, taking in his trembling jaw, his flattened ears, his eyes, which were—

Green, clear, steady, and showing no signs of intoxication.

“Monk trick,” Ikael said, and showed Thancred his open palm, which had fresh drops of blood oozing from small half-moon welts, “For toxins. Did you really think I’d let myself get completely sloshed with that swill-sodden arse within ten malms? Turns out you were wrong about the fighting thing.”

“Ikael…” Thancred started, but Ikael didn’t let him continue.

“Now _move_ ,” Ikael growled, “Because I haven’t hit something living in _weeks_ , Thancred, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“…Be careful,” Thancred finished, and stepped aside.

Ikael grinned at him, all teeth, and slipped into his fighting form as he stalked over to where Kyapitoru was waiting.

~*~

Kyapitoru looked as effortlessly dangerous and inviting as he had before, but this time Ikael was seeing him through red-tinted lenses, and any wandering thoughts he had had, any _desire_ of any sort had completely dissipated, leaving only something that screamed _threat, threat, threat._

It was one thing for him to dismiss Ikael, (and Ikael had indeed gone to Edyan to warn him against accepting Kyapitoru as a client). But for him to go after _Alisaie_? For him to _attack_ Alphinaud?

 _That_ was utterly unacceptable.

“You know, there’s a special place in the seventh hell reserved for your kind of person,” Ikael said, and if his mind was a little darker, if an aether-charged crystal in his pocket burned a little hotter, no one had to know.

Kyapitoru turned his head to look at him, the movement slow and lazy. “You have come back to me, have you?” he said, voice like liquid lead. _Dangerous_. “Decided to give in and accept me, whore?”

“My name is _Ikael_ ,” Ikael hissed. _Dangerous. Relentless. Irredeemable._ “And I have come back to you to tell you to draw your blade.”

_Relentless._

“For what?”

_How dare he._

Kyapitoru raised an eyebrow. “Pray elaborate, dear… _Ikael._ There. Is that it? Be pacified now, kitten.”

“Those twins,” Ikael said, “The ones you just spoke to.” Rage reared up in him, an ugly, red-eyed beast. “ _Draw your blade._ ”

Kyapitoru looked—surprised, artfully so, and did not draw his weapon. “The boy and his sister?” he asked. “Why does that bother you? Are you jealous, kitten? I can assure you, the girl was a treat to look at, but she was not baring as much skin as you; my interest was not as peaked. I admit, it was still a disap—”

 _Irredeemable._ “You had your chance,” Ikael snarled, and—

_Kill him._

—his fists were bloody, his eyes were—red, somehow, Kyapitoru was—

_KILL HIM._

—red, on the ground, blood pouring from nose, choking out of his mouth—

_NOW._

—a horn had broken, an eye had broken, and—

_and_

—a plate came out of nowhere and flew right underneath Ikael’s raised fist. It crashed to the ground and shattered.

“Whoops,” said Y’shtola.

_What._

“You threw… a plate at the Warrior of Light,” someone said faintly.

Ikael still hadn’t moved. He could breathe. He was breathing. In, out. In…

“His life is faint, but it yet remains. Someone see to Ikael—Thancred, Lyse.”

People were touching him, then, dragging him away.

_Let me go._

“Let me _go!_ ” Ikael snarled, straining against the grips that held him back. “ _Let me finish_.”

“We… can’t do that, Ikael.” Lyse. “I’m sorry. He’ll get what’s coming to him, I’ll make sure of it, but… You were going to kill him.”

Y’shtola was kneeling next to Kyapitoru, now, and a few other chirurgeons hurried to her side. The man himself lay unmoving save for the barely noticeable rise and fall of his chest.

_I’m sorry._

“No,” Ikael croaked, still tugging. “No, I’m not—that… that fucking bastard deserved it, he—”

 _Not for that_.

Alphinaud and Alisaie were standing huddled together, and Ikael met their gazes for a fleeting second—

_Oh._

He slumped. Thancred and Lyse, not expecting him to stop struggling, nearly ripped his arms off, but readjusted quickly.

Ikael didn’t look up as Kyapitoru was lead away. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground, not moving even as Alphinaud called his name hesitantly. Eventually, he stopped, and Ikael heard him and Alisaie walk away, their footsteps receding into the dusk.

“Come on,” Thancred said after a long minute. “Let’s get those hands bandaged, hm?”

They released him. Ikael said nothing.

~*~

It was intriguing how such blunt instruments could be used as a weapon, Thancred mused as he carefully wrapped Ikael’s bloody knuckles. He had washed them, applied ointment, and fetched clean bandages easily enough. Ikael himself had simply sat there, completely silent, staring off into nothing.

It was very dramatic. Thancred carefully lifted Ikael’s thumb, trying to pull the cloth taut while still allowing Ikael ease of movement. “You don’t bite your nails, do you?” he asked. “Strange; you struck me as the type.”

Ikael did not respond to his attempt at conversation. He hadn’t the last three times Thancred had tried either.

Still. Thancred hummed, at first just to make a noise, but then a higher note, and then it turned into an Ul’dahn lullaby. Perhaps not the best choice of subject—something about a farmer falling in love with his mother-in-law—but it had a sweet melody.

He finished his work as he finished the song, and held Ikael’s hands together, giving them a quick squeeze. “There. Done well enough that Y’shtola will not rebuke me.”

Ikael’s eyes flickered to his hands, and his fingers twitched. Then—

“You have a nice voice,” uttered quietly, barely audible.

Thancred smiled at him. “Of course I do,” he said. “Comes with the profession, doesn’t it? A voice unfit for wooing does not a good bard make.”

He had welcomed the expected silence, so it surprised him somewhat when Ikael made a strange wheezing noise. Then he—smiled, which was good.

“I… your voice, um…” Ikael went slightly pink, “I, uh, actually had a bit of a crush on you when we first met. Not anymore—gods no—but… did I ever seem…”

His eyelids lowered. Thancred frowned when he caught on to his drift.

“No,” he said. “ _No_ , Ikael, you weren’t—”

“There was the subligar,” Ikael muttered. “And I know I dress a bit…”

Thancred's frown deepened. “The way someone dresses is not indicative of their person,” he said. “You of all people know that. No one has ever thought less of you for your choice of outfit.”

“He did.” Ikael’s voice was dull. “I… it’s happened before. I’ve had people—accuse me, people think I was trying to come on to them when I was just being friendly, people I’ve actually tried to sleep with thinking I was _loose_ —”

“They were wrong,” Thancred said firmly. “Anyone like that is not worth your time.”

“I…” In the quietness of the evening, in the face of no one to cause conflict, Ikael seemed unsure.

“Would you say the same of a woman?” Thancred asked, and Ikael blinked at him, surprised. “Of the dancers who line the streets of Ul’dah, of any girl you have seen wearing less than would be considered ‘proper?’ Would you judge her based on her clothing?”

“No, of course not.” Ikael frowned. “That doesn’t…” Slowly, his brow cleared. “Oh,” he said.

“Oh,” Thancred agreed, echoing Ikael’s favourite word. “It’s that simple, Ikael. Now are we going to talk about the fact that you won’t look Alphinaud or Alisaie in the eye for weeks?”

Ikael narrowed his eyes, but it seemed to be in thought. “… No,” he said eventually.

Thancred leaned back in his chair. “No?”

Ikael gave him a small smile. It was tired, but it was there. “I have calmed down quite a bit,” he said. “And I know I will have to talk with them in due time. But for now…” He sighed.  

Interesting, but Thancred would not push. “Do you… want a hug or something?” he suggested instead, admittedly somewhat lost. “Are you going to cry? Do you want me to cuddle you?”

Ikael let out an amused little puff of air. “You’re starting to sound like me,” he said. “No, I’m not going to cry. And I thought you didn’t like cuddling?”

“I can put aside my façade of pointless masculinity for one day at least,” Thancred said dryly. “You,” he leaned forward and jabbed Ikael in the chest, “Are more important, my friend.”

Ikael smiled. “You say the sweetest things,” he said. “And you know, I think I’ll take you up on the hug. Firstly, though: that was _adorably_ awkward. ‘Are ye goin’ te cry? D’ye—’”

Thancred kicked him under the table. “Don’t start that shite again,” he groused.

Ikael laughed, and Thancred smiled internally, even as he kept his grumpy expression. Some things were worth small sacrifices.

And some things, he knew, as Ikael leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, were worth bigger ones. One day, that day would come, but…

(Ikael’s eyes were tired, and his hair was falling in front of his face a little, but he was smiling. He looked happy.)

… not today.

~*~

**Author's Note:**

> So! This was a long time coming, and here we are. If any of you have any prompts, need a particular itch that needs scratching, want to know more about ikael, or just wanna chat, shoot me an ask/message on [ tumblr ](http://draw-you-coward.tumblr.com/)! (i know it says art blog but i love you and want to talk i swear)
> 
>  
> 
> (..... also. ahem. I FULLY believe in strong platonic relationships, especially this one.... but i did attempt to write a naughty a while back to experiment so if y'all wanna see it lemme know ok disregard this if ur here for the bromance ill go hide now)


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